


The Request

by MaskoftheRay



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: (Partially) Suitless Darth Vader, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker visits Padmé's grave, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Brief moments of humor, Character Study, Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker Bonding Time, Darth Vader Lives, Darth Vader Needs a Hug, Dubious Morality, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Other, POV Darth Vader, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Sad Darth Vader, What-If, introspective, remorse and regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: After the war ended and the Empire fell, Darth Vader surrendered to the Rebel Alliance at Luke’s request. Now that some time has passed, and the New Republic has been (newly) formed, there is one last thing for him to do before he is punished for his crimes. And that is to visit Naboo.Or the one where Anakin gets a chance to grieve.
Relationships: Darth Sidious & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Past Padme Amidala/Anakin Skywalker - Relationship
Comments: 26
Kudos: 128





	The Request

**Author's Note:**

> “… murdered men rose red  
> in their clanging armor, muttered  
> words that bled through the bars  
> of iron masks: _the lord_  
>  _who sold us to the glory fields, lied_ ”  
> — from “Without Regret,” by Eleanor Wilner   
> 

The entire Alliance High Command was assembled, along with several other officials— the Court Reporter, a few personal assistants, a section of soldiers, Princess Leia Organa, the smuggler-turned-general Han Solo, his companion Chewbacca, and the inimitable Commander Luke Skywalker. Of course, there was the Sith Lord as well. No one could forget that. The room felt far too small, despite being the largest available on the base. Vader was a dark stain against the horde of troops surrounding him.

Just before the meeting began, Commander Skywalker had opened the door, walking slightly ahead of the mass of people— which looked rather like some strange, seething being— guarding Darth Vader. The Sith Lord was in binders, and had had his lightsaber confiscated immediately after his unconditional surrender. Despite the fact that he was watched by so many people, and that the young Commander _did_ have his lightsaber, many of the room’s occupants still wore grim expressions on their faces. No one truly believed that their precautions would be enough to contain the Sith Lord if he truly wished to escape.

Fortunately, Vader seemed to be playing along today. It also helped that his son was here. No one could control Darth Vader better than he, not even Vader’s daughter. Although the Sith Lord did listen to her, whenever Princess Organa and Vader were together, it was only a matter of time before Commander Skywalker was called in to separate them. These days, he looked more tired than he ever had before, apart from directly after Bespin. Not that anyone cared to mention that, of course.

The room was utterly silent— or as silent as it could be given the crowd, and Darth Vader’s chilling, ever-present regulated breathing.

Finally, Chancellor Mon Mothma, who had volunteered to proceed over this meeting, cleared her throat. “We have gathered here today, as many of you are aware, to hear a petition from the prisoner. Now, I understand that to many, this may seem… distasteful. But for the New Republic to succeed, we must learn to treat all—” her eyes slid to Darth Vader— “even those whose actions we find reprehensible, with decency and fairness. We will have failed our first true test as a democracy if we do not. Bailiff, please bring the prisoner forward.”

A stern-faced middle-aged man in green fatigues gestured for Vader to follow him. They approached a black metal podium. Vader easily towered over it as well as the Bailiff, but his posture was not arrogant or threatening. Instead, he strode forward with purpose and easily came to a stop before his intended destination. The Bailiff pressed a button on the side of the podium, and a long ‘Y’ shaped chain extended. He pressed another button— this time on the Sith Lord’s binders— and connected part of the chain to each half of the binder. The chain retracted slightly, making Vader step forward. Once he was directly behind the podium, there was a low beep and his bound hands separated.

Everyone was silent. Vader’s guards— less fearful now that he was contained— stepped forward en masse, as did Commander Skywalker. The young man moved further forward than the guards, stopping parallel with the podium, though he was several feet away. The Sith Lord’s helmet turned sideways, and his dark bug eyes stared at the young man. The Commander looked back. There was a minuscule dip of Darth Vader’s helmet, as if he was acknowledging something that Commander Skywalker had said, then a raspy inhale, and he turned forward to face the panel of rebel leaders seated before him on a raised platform.

“Lord Va— General Skywalker, if there are no objections, I believe you may begin your petition,” Chancellor Mothma said, voice slightly raised to reach the back of the room, where Princess Organa, General Solo, and Chewbacca were standing. The Sith Lord’s helmet swiveled around slowly, but no one broke the silence. His respirator rattled again. Then he turned once more to face the Chancellor.

“The aim of my petition,” Vader began slowly, “is to delay my sentence—”

There were audible gasps, and muttering. Several members of High Command sneered, openly disgusted. Someone laughed. Vader fell abruptly silent. His hands, previously resting flat atop the podium, clenched slightly. Chancellor Mothma stood suddenly and glared at her compatriots. She sat when it was quiet, and nodded crisply at the Sith Lord. He breathed loudly again, and there was a low bark from the respirator. It almost sounded like he’d cleared his throat. “I do not need a prolonged delay, merely enough time to reach Naboo and return. That is my petition.”

A puzzled hush fell over the room as people looked around, as if confirming that they had heard Darth Vader’s modest request correctly. Commander Skywalker, however, did not look as confused. His eyes softened, and there was a slight crease between his brows. In the back of the room, Princess Organa paled to an alarming shade of white, until General Solo placed a hand on her shoulder. “Why Naboo?” the Chancellor inquired neutrally.

Vader stiffened. Then he straightened up to his full, intimidating height, and replied coldly, “I did not think that the reb— New Republic was interested in my _personal affairs_.”

Chancellor Mothma frowned, and narrowed her eyes. “In this case, we are.” She sighed, and her expression softened. “General, if we are to consider your request, we must have the full details. We need some assurance that you do not have ulterior motives.”

Vader did not move, merely met the Chancellor’s gaze, and held it. Commander Skywalker glanced anxiously between the two, and his posture was tense. “Very well,” the Sith Lord agreed dispassionately. “I wish to go to Naboo because it is where my wife is buried.”

At this, a low rumbling spread throughout the room as Command-members, soldiers, the audience turned aside and whispered. In the force, there was an obnoxious flare of intrigue and shock. Throughout it all, Darth Vader stood absolutely still, and looked straight ahead, showing no outward sign that he was disturbed by any of this. The younger Skywalker shot a worried glance at him.

Finally, General Jan Dodonna cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Vader, but _who_ exactly was your wife? And are there any records of said… marriage?”

At first, the only response to General Dodonna’s question was a resounding silence. The Sith Lord’s breathing remained steady, but Commander Skywalker shot his father another alarmed look, and several guards raised their blasters as the podium shook briefly. But it did not crumple, and a moment later, the storm seemed to pass. The soldiers lowered their weapons, and Vader looked up. “My wife was Padmé Amidala. And there are no records of a marriage between us.”

Another member of Command frowned. “How do we know that you aren’t lying?”

The Sith Lord’s fists clenched, and the young Commander took a discrete step towards his father. Vader’s respirator cycled again. Surprisingly, when he spoke, his tone was of subdued, cool amusement. “Many of you were not born during the time of the Jedi, or have since forgotten aspects of it, so I will forgive the ignorance… The Jedi Code forbade marriage. That is why there is no record of _my_ marriage.” Vader paused, and to those who knew him best— Commander Skywalker— he seemed almost smug, “but I was never a model Jedi. You will find a marriage certificate for one Qui-Gon Lars of Tatooine and a Shmi Kenobi of Naboo, dating to 22 BBY in Naboo’s civic records. This marriage was witnessed by the droids R2-D2 and C-3PO, as well as the human Sola Nabarrie.”

At this, the muttering returned, and Chancellor Mothma gestured for the Court Reporter. She muttered something in the younger woman’s ear, who nodded. Then a datapad was retrieved, and the official began a search. A few minutes later, she showed the screen to Chancellor Mothma, who gestured for her colleagues to approach. They did, and the Court Reporter showed them the screen as well. General Dodonna cleared his throat. “There does appear to be a marriage certificate for those names at that date. But—”

“I was close to Senator Amidala,” Chancellor Mothma interrupted, looking stricken. “I recall seeing Anaki— General Skywalker and her together on numerous occasions.”

Another hush fell over the room.

Surprisingly, the Sith Lord was the one to break it. “Undoubtedly, many of you will not believe that I am, or perhaps ever was, capable of an emotion like _love_. But I loved Pa— my wife dearly. It has been 26 years, 2 months, and 17 days since her passing. In that time, I have paid my respects once. I would like to do so again before my death.” Vader paused, and the sound of his respirator was a harsh, grating rasp; more so than usual.

Then he looked around the room, or at least as much as his chained hands allowed. “I am well aware of my reputation; perhaps you do not think I deserve this. But supposedly, this New Republic is better, juster, and more _merciful_ than its predecessor or the Empire. I await to see it.” Yet again, there was absolute silence. Commander Skywalker was frowning softly, and looked lost in thought. His prosthetic hand tapped errantly upon his thigh.

Chancellor Mothma’s face was a mask, although her eyes did soften slightly. “What reason do we have to trust that you will not use this opportunity to escape?” she asked.

Vader seemed to consider his response. _What could I possibly do if I escaped, with so few allies, no ship, and my poor health? There is no place for me in the galaxy any longer_ , he thought wryly. “Luke, my son, and my da— Princess Organa are here. I do not foresee them leaving anytime soon.” Most of High Command, and the spectators, still looked unconvinced. _Very well_. “I will also give you this.” He pressed a button on his chestplate, and reached for the helmet, thoroughly ignoring the sound of cocked blasters.

 **__ ** **\- ~*~ - __**

General Skywalker placed his helmet atop the podium, and deliberately ignored the uncomfortable, burning sensation of the room’s collective stares directed at his half-masked face, as well as the discomfort his pale, scarred skin felt at being exposed. His breathing sounded especially raspy without the top of the helmet to assist with suit pressurization. Commander Skywalker’s eyes widened, and he took a few quick steps forward before the former Sith Lord turned to him, and held up a hand. His eyes, despite everything, crinkled in the corners. _There is no need to be concerned, Luke_.

The Commander peered thoughtfully into his father’s blue eyes before he nodded, and stepped back.

In the back of the room, Princess Organa looked stricken, and vaguely nauseous.

No one in High Command was sitting any longer. Instead, they were huddled close together, alternating between long looks at the elder Skywalker and talking amongst themselves. After several minutes of this, the General grew noticeably impatient. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to drum them. He did not. Chancellor Mothma, again, seemed to accept the duty of speaking for the group. “Your helmet… it is not vital to maintaining your life support function?”

General Skywalker smiled weakly. Though his mouth was hidden, it was still a rather ghastly sight to the uninitiated. Which was most of the people in the room. “It is not. However, I have worn it for twenty years and I would hate to lose it.”

Chancellor Mothma nodded. “In that case, we accept your request— on the condition that you are accompanied by armed guards and Commander Skywalker.”

The General, already reaching for his helmet, replied, “I accept your terms.”

 **__ ** **\- ~*~ - __**

It was a tense three-day journey to Naboo. In total, there were two ships that made the trip: the small and secure vessel which held Vader, his entourage of guards, and his son. The second was the _Millennium Falcon_. Princess Organa had been less than pleased by Chancellor Mothma and High Command’s decision to “throw Luke under the speeder” by requiring him to accompany the Sith Lord. Not that she could argue with it— it wasn’t like the Alliance had anyone else capable of using the force, after all.

Commander Skywalker, however, insisted that he was not put out by his task. In fact, he seemed to look forward to it in some ways. “Don’t you _want_ to see our mother’s grave?” he’d finally demanded, exasperated to no end by his twin’s negativity.

Leia had blinked. “ _Of course_ I do, Luke! Just not with Ana— Vader.”

Luke had grimaced momentarily, then sighed. He looked much more understanding when he met his sister’s gaze this time. “Well no one said you had to come with us, Leia. It’s up to you.” He’d then placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and squeezed slightly.

Now Leia watched through the _Falcon’s_ viewport as the ship that carried Luke, ~~their father~~ Vader, and the guards docked. Moments later, she felt a slight bump as Han’s ship did too. Chewbacca rumbled something— probably an alert that they’d landed— and she tore her attention away from the outside world. _Stars_ , she thought worriedly, _I hope this works out_.

 **__ ** **\- ~*~ - __**

They had 48 hours on Naboo. It was not long enough. It was _too_ long. The last time he’d been here was… yes, Empire Day, seven years ago. The Emperor had requested his presence for the festivities, despite Vader’s insisting that he was far too busy with his military duties to attend. Unsurprisingly, his protests had fallen on deaf ears. What Sidious wanted, Sidious got. _Until now_ , Anakin thought with grim satisfaction.

Being back on Naboo was like a slap to the senses, as nearly every aspect of it triggered a memory, some containing _her_. It also hurt, physically, because he was not used to looking at the world through unmasked eyes. Not used to feeling the elements on his skin. It was jarring and nearly overwhelming, how many sensations the outside world contained. He had forgotten after 20 years spent in his small, self-contained world.

Apparently, a little of this got through to Luke, for the boy strode casually closer, and murmured, “Are you alright, Father? I sensed your… unease.”

Anakin snorted, and was vaguely surprised when it actually came out sounding somewhat like a snort. “All is well, Luke. I am merely… adjusting. It has been a long time since I last saw things with my own eyes.”

Luke smiled wryly, no doubt catching his (unintended) double meaning. “How does it look?”

He thought for a moment. “Bright.” _And beautiful_. No wonder his Padmé had been so fond of her homeworld.

They checked in at the local New Republic headquarters, and Leia contacted Chancellor Mothma to inform her of their safe arrival, and that all was proceeding as planned. Anakin was escorted to a cell and informed of the next day’s schedule. Then he was left alone, save for his guards, of course. Unsurprisingly, he did not sleep restfully. He had reason to be nervous.

 **__ ** **\- ~*~ - __**

The presence of the soldiers— force-blind though they were— weighed heavily on him. Surprisingly, so did his son’s presence; although Luke was shielding remarkably well, and had contracted into himself, he too was noticeable. Leia, Han, and the Wookie were more distant irritants. Anakin huffed. “Commander, may I make a request?”

Luke looked a bit bemused by the formality. But he did not let it get to him. “You may, General.”

“I would appreciate it if you allowed me to pay my respects in private.”

The younger Skywalker blinked. “But of course, General.”

 _Thank you, Son_.

His heart beat rapidly, and it felt as if there were a war raging in his chest; although Anakin’s respirator controlled his breathing, he thought it should be coming out more quickly. He swallowed, and walked steadily down the stairs into the mausoleum. _My angel. How cold it is here. I am afraid you wouldn’t like it_. Anakin exhaled. In the confined space, it echoed slightly. He stopped a few feet before the life-size marble statue of Padmé, as still as if he had been encased in carbonite. His exposed face nearly gleamed, it was so pale, and his black cape gently brushed the floor.

Eventually, Anakin shook himself from his stupor and swallowed thickly. Behind the mask, he frowned. Slowly, he breathed in, and out. Then the former Jedi eased himself to the floor and kneeled. His respirator cycled once more, destroying the mournful atmosphere of his angel’s resting place. How he hated it. _I cannot even manage reverential silence_. An anguished smile crossed Anakin’s face, and he laughed weakly.

“I do not come here to seek forgiveness,” he began softly, eyes averted from the statue’s cool gaze. Instead, Anakin turned his focus to the ornate frieze of lilies on the sarcophagus’ base. “I know what I have done, that I have failed you. The only good deed I can claim credit for since your passing is that I did not kill either of our children— ” _though even that accomplishment is not without a degree of failure_. Anakin closed his eyes briefly, recalling Bespin, the _Death Star_. “Darth Sidious is dead as well, though that was mostly not my doing. Our son’s bravery persuaded me to act.”

He blinked, startled by the wetness on his cheeks. _You weak fool._ Anakin quickly banished the thought. _No, I have **been** weak. Whatever this is now— it is not weakness_. “My angel, you would be horrified by what I have become. Leia… she is so like you, and I- I have wronged her. Luke too. I have dishonored your memory, forgotten or dismissed all you stood for— if I ever knew what that was at all.”

The responding silence seemed cold and judgmental. Anakin’s hands trembled.

“I do not deny that I am a monster, Padmé. But if it is any comfort, I have not forgiven myself, nor will I go unpunished. I gave everything I had to the Empire, for what? This broken body, a prison cell, and infamy.” _As well as our daughter’s hatred. A son who has, by rejecting my teachings, made me the last of the Sith Lords_. He smiled bitterly. “Just reward for unjust work, no? At least there is that.”

Anakin sighed, daring to look up at the face of the statue once more. “I do not know what my fate will be— how much longer this suit will function, nor what awaits me after death, if anything. I left that sort of philosophizing to Keno— Obi-Wan. In any case, I doubt that I will be with you. But you will not be forgotten. I will tell the children your story. That, at least, is a task I will _not_ fail at.”

Growing uncomfortable from his prolonged kneeling, Anakin stood slowly and moved forward. _I wonder how much longer Luke will permit me to stay here undisturbed_ , he wondered absently. For the former Jedi had long ago lost track of time. He walked forward and placed a hand on the statue’s base, and wished he could feel it as he ran his fingers over the inscription: _Here lies Padmé Amidala, brave Queen, and friend to all. May she be at peace_.

“I do not deserve forgiveness,” he said as softly as the vocoder allowed, “so I will not ask it. All I request is that you understand this: if I had seen another way, I would have taken it… But what is done is done, and there is no reversing it. I must now accept the blame for my part. If you are listening, know that I am sorry.”

Anakin bowed lowly before his wife’s statue, murmured, “Rest well, Padmé” then turned around and walked away.

He did not look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Read the full version of “Without Regret” [here](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42970/without-regret). 
> 
> I did some research into dates and character backgrounds for this, as I am not overly familiar with a lot of canon-details. My information is from [Wookieepedia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Main_Page).


End file.
